Page 15 of The Tribes of Magic
“No, Bronte,” I told her honestly. “It wasn’t magic. I just slipped away while you guys were distracted.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t magic?” Bronte asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
It seemed that the only time I was good at magic was when my life was on the line or the fate of the world was at stake. Luckily, Zoe was there to cheer me up.
“Do you know what I think?” she said. “I think she’s not some powerful Polymage at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean, Bronte, is that she can’t do any magic at all. She’s never been able to do any magic when we ask her to do it. So maybe she’s been faking it all this time.” Zoe hit me with her nastiest smile.
“That’s ridiculous. She has a magic mark.”
“Does she, Dutch? Does she really?” Zoe’s brows drew together like two rivers flooding into one another. “So, you’ve seen it?”
Dutch blushed.
Bronte frowned at him. “Wait, when did you see her mark? I haven’t seen it.”
“Not everyone’s mark is right there on their wrist for everyone to see like yours is, Bronte,” Victoria said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to need to see someproof.” Zoe directed the statement at Victoria, but her gaze was locked squarely on me.
I rolled my eyes at her. “I don’t have to prove anything to you, Zoe.”
Zoe flicked one of her tiny pigtails. “Yeah, becausethatdoesn’t make you sound guilty at all.”
“What exactly do you think I’m guilty of?”
“Pretending to have magic.”
“But we’veallseen her do magic, Zoe,” Jack pointed out.
She shrugged. “Everything we think she did, she could have just been using a magical artifact or something.”
I let out a really loud snort.
Zoe bristled. “What’s so funny?”
“You are, Zoe. People who don’t have magic can’t use magical artifacts, genius.”
“Says who?”
“People who have a clue about magic.”
Her mouth dropped in outrage.
“Ask Ainsley if you don’t believe me.”
Zoe’s gaze flickered to the Knight, like she was tempted, but she must have decided that annoying Ainsley with random questions wasn’t the best way to get into her good graces.
“I could ask Ainsley,” she purred. “Or you could just settle this here and now by showing us your magic mark. Unless you don’t have one.”
“Fine,” I bit out. I pulled my shirt up and pushed my pants down—just far enough to show them the magic tattoo on my hipbone. “Satisfied?”
“How do we know it’s even real?” Zoe squinted at my mark. “Well, I guess there’s one way.” She reached toward it.
